“Hey, what a day! Chased beans, played fashion with the crew. Got dared, went swimming, ended on an island, made friends with Coconut Crab. Reckoned coconuts are not chicken. Finally, got found, now back in Pawsburg with a whale of a tale. How’s that for dog’s day out? – Rufus”

Listen to the story here

By the well-worn boot of Mr. Benson’s ghost, life in Pawsburg had never been this thrilling!

The day started with our usual meandering jaunt to Pug Palace. Passing by The Cat’s Meow Sushi we took in the appetising whiffs of tempura-dipped hake. The plump golden chicken chunks danced tempestuously in my stomach as my tastebuds recoiled at the thought of the dreaded green beans.

During our visit to Tail Wagger’s Tailor, Scooter, the more audacious of my companions, cheekily tried a stylish beret, while Patch opted for a snazzy bow tie, and Pepper, always the introverted one, just flicked through the tall stacks of bone-shaped biscuits.

As the day drew to a close, we set out on an unprecedented adventure, without the foggiest notion where it would lead. It began as a dare, as they often do, stemming from Patch’s impatient paws. The dare was simple – swim across Poodle Pond and bring back something fun. Being a Boston Terrier of a certain reputation, I wasn’t going to back down.

The swim started playfully, with my full-moon eyes scanning the horizon. Halfway across, however, a whirling whirlpool tugged at my strength. With a splutter and a splash, I got sucked into the watery vortex and spat out onto a deserted island. Talk about something fun!

Alone and stranded (my attempts at whistling for help fetched only the irate squawks of seagulls, which seemed somewhat redundant) I decided survival was the new game. With the indomitable spirit of Mr. Benson nestled in my heart, I foraged for sticks, twigs, and my beloved golden chicken chunks; alas, they were replaced by something called ‘coconuts.’ I also made a friend, the squeaky rubber hedgehog made a grand second coming in the form of a coconut crab. He didn’t squeak. Peculiar that.

Days turned to weeks, or hours, or some such obscure measure of time I had never bothered with. There was the clear distinction of daylight and abruptly, none. At times, out of sheer despondence I would howl to the sky, the resounding echo infusing some surreal sense of comfort.

But one fine sunrise, or perhaps sunset, I could never tell which, my sharp Boston Terrier’s ears caught the faint echo of a playful bark. The ripples in Poodle Pond mirrored my racing heart—I recognized those barks. My Terrier Trio, my comrades Scooter, Patch, and Pepper had come for me!

Dazzling reunions and drooling conundrums followed. Patch huffed, “By Mr. Benson’s left boot! If we’d known you were on an extended vacation, we wouldn’t have bothered!”

Chuckles filled the air, fur bristling with joy. Scooter’s beret was wonky and Pepper’s tail wagged like a pendulum, but life had imparted its unpredictable magic. We were together again, back in Pawsburg with our own tale to tell; of the Boston Terrier and the coconut crab. As old man Benson would graciously state, “In life, my dear Rufus, it’s not about the destination, but the journey and the paw-prints left behind.”

The End.